


Curled and Wounded

by FoolishPhilosopher



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depressing, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Love, Maybe - Freeform, Sad, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2604287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoolishPhilosopher/pseuds/FoolishPhilosopher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Unrequited love does not die; it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides, curled and wounded. For some unfortunates, it turns bitter and mean, and those who come after pay the price for the hurt done by the one who came before."<br/>-Elle Newmark, The Book of Unholy Mischi</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grey Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so this is the first multi-chapter (though they are rather short chapters) work I have ever attempted. It was something that I started a long time ago and never got around to finishing. I am hoping that by finally posting it it will give me some incentive to short out my thoughts and ends the story which has been buzzing around in my brain for so long.
> 
> I started writing this because I feel that Draco's relationship with Astoria is never really addressed by the Rowling adequately, and it is one in which I foresee a lot of problems (especially in the initial stages of the relationship). Astoria's character never comes up in the novels which makes her both an extremely easy and very challenging character to write. My take on her marriage to Malfoy is that it is a match made primarily in an attempt for the pureblood families to save face after the war. It is one that is motivated solely by money and devoid of all love.
> 
> I have always loved the idea of a relationship between Malfoy and Hermoine and when reading an interview with Rowling I was really struck by what she said. She said, "I considered for a long time a romance between Hermione and Draco. They're both strong-minded people and Hermione could have helped pull Draco towards the light - been his saving grace - much like Lily was to Snape. However, in the end, I thought it was too much of a plot twist and decided that Ron was her best match." The phrase saving grace stood out to me and I decided that adding the storyline that Hermione had at one point almost been Draco's savior, but had left him for another (and with even less than he had before).

The sky is cloudy and grey. Beneath the sky lies the big green lawn of the manor. Rows and rows of white chairs stretch out across the green lawn and neatly trimmed hedges border the grassy area. Tall marble statues and pots of red roses adorn the grass and silk ribbons are tied meticulously on the chairs. In front of the rows and rows of chairs there is an alter complete with a gilded archway smothered in flowers and ribbons. Brightly plumed peacocks strut about between the rows of chairs, silent and proud. A slight breeze blows, stirring the ribbons and disturbing the flowers. Rose petals float slowly to the ground under the clouded sky.

The girl stands at the window looking out. Behind her a woman paces frantically around the room, the sharp clicking of her high heels on the mahogany floors echoing through the room. Aside from the mirror in the center, the large room is unfurnished, and the grey light shining through the window makes it feel cold and empty.

“Astoria, dear come here” said the woman.The girl turns slowly away from the window and walks across the smooth floor to where the woman is standing arms outstretched.

“We really must do something about this hair. It was done only a half hour ago and it is already in disarray!”

Even with the woman wearing heels the girl stands much taller. She bends down, lowering her eyes, and lets the woman fix her hair. When the woman gives a satisfied sigh she straightens up.

“Doesn’t the dress look beautiful dear?” the woman asks. “You look like a princess. Do you feel like one? Goodness knows that’s how I felt on my day eighteen years ago”

The girl turns to look at her reflection in the mirror. Her dress is long and fitted and graceful. The sleek skirt flares out at her ankles and the bodice and neck are adorned with crystals and embroidery. On her neck is a heavy diamond necklace and matching earrings hang from her ears. Her long golden hair is pinned up off her neck and her green eyes are layer with make-up. She looks beautiful. She frowns.

“I liked the other dress. The one made out of the green lace. This one is too much. It makes my shoulders look too broad.”

“Green? Nonsense Astoria, everyone knows you need to wear white today.”

The girl rubs the heavy rouge on her cheeks.

“They put too much on my skin. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Stop being so silly. You look fine.”

The girl looks out the window as the woman kneels to adjust the hem of the dress. Outside the sky is still grey.

“He doesn’t even know who I am does he?”

“Of course he does.”

“No he doesn’t. He doesn’t know me at all.”

“That will all change dear. People grow.”

“Will he grow to love me?”

“Of course he will.”

“No. He won’t.”

The woman raises her head and exhales. She looks at the girl.

“I’m sorry Astoria.”

“This isn’t what I wanted Mom.”

“I know. But you need this. We need this. Please Astoria?” She takes the girl’s face in her hands. Her short fingers are tipped with red nail polish. Her palm is cold on the girl’s cheek.

“Can you be perfect today?”

The girl nods.

“That’s my girl.”

Her mother’s lipstick red lips curl into a smile. She kisses her daughter’s cheeks and gathers her things and walks out of the room. She leaves the girl standing by herself, gazing out the window.


	2. Dark Clouds

The young man stands on the marble balcony with his feet together and his arms firmly planted on the railing. He is wearing a dark suit that has been perfectly altered to fit his broad shoulders and long legs. Blowing in the breeze, his pale hair contrasts the dark sky as he looks out over the garden. His grey eyes scrutinize the grey scenery bellow and he snorts and turns his back, walking through the large French windows back into his room.

 “Awful weather outside. Grey and dark and bloody bleak. My mother won’t be pleased at all, will she?” He glances at his friend. The dark haired man is leaning on one of the posters of the bed, arms crossed, eyes closed.  He doesn’t respond. The young man adjusts his tie and sighs. He walks over to the full length mirror between the bed and the window.

“I hate wearing suits. These bloody things are so difficult to tie. Maybe I shouldn’t wear the damn thing.” He pulls at his cuffs and fixes his cufflinks. “Maybe I shouldn’t even show up.” A grin spreads over his face and he turns to look at his friend.

“Wouldn’t that be grand eh Blaise? Everyone shows up but the groom.”

The dark skinned boy opens his eyes and raises his head. He stands up but doesn’t uncross his arms. “You need to go through with this mate. You need…”

“… a woman with an untarnished arm, and her family needs the gold. I know, I know.”

The young man takes a step closer to the mirror and leans forward. He looks at the creases by his mouth and brow that weren’t there three years ago. He looks at the bags under his eyes that won’t seem to go away. He runs his fingers through his white blonde hair, thinner than it was before.  He frowns. His friend moves from the bedpost and comes to stand beside him. He uncrosses his arms and  puts his hand on the other man’s shoulder. The two young men stare at their reflection in the mirror until the blonde one looks away, shifting his gaze to the window.

“The weather better clear up. Looks like my mother has invited the entire wizarding world to this bloody thing.

“You know your mother better than anyone. Every high-profile witch and wizard will be here today. All of our old classmates.” The dark skinnd boy gives his friend’s shoulder a slight squeeze. Then he pauses and looks at the ground. “Well except for two.”

The young man continues to look out the window, fiddling with his tie. “ Did potter and the weaselette decide they had better thing to do than come to my wedding? Figures.”

“No, not them.”

The young man stops touching his tie. He looks up at his friend. Then he stiffens and closes his eyes.

“I will not see her Blaise.”

“You could have at least sent an invitation.”

“I will not see her.”

“You can’t keep holding on to it mate.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“So what if she picked him? She was always going to anyway.”

The young man’s face hardens. He opens his eyes.

 “Get out.”

“Mate…I didn’t mean…”

“I said get out!”

His friend gives him a long glance and walks slowly out of the room. His footsteps echo behind him as the door swing shut.

The young man sits down on his bed and puts his head in his hands.


	3. Lies Told on Wet Grass

Underneath the girl’s feet the grass in the aisle is cool and damp. Above her the sky is grey and clouded. Behind her the guests are sympathetic and happy and jealous and hateful. In front of her the priest is slow and solemn. Beside her the young man is quiet and composed.

“Dear friends and family we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of this man and this women in holy matrimony...”

The long veil on her head rubbing against the back of her bare neck begins to itch. She squirms in the long thick dress, trying to stop the bead of sweat that is running down the center of her chest. The tight white heels pinch her toes. She shifts her weight from foot to foot.

"True marriage is more than joining the bonds of marriage of two persons; it is the union of two hearts...

The young man is motionless. He stands straight and tall and still. Only his eyes wander. They fall on the archway above the alter.  It is delicately decorated with flowers but the bad weather has damaged many of the blossoms and dead petals liter the ground. He can feel his smooth black shoes sink into the damp earth. He can see the red rose petals wilt beneath the black leather. He doesn’t move. He looks up at the sky. It is still grey.

“…It lives on the love you give each other and never grows old, but thrives on the joy of each new day.”

The girl closes her eyes and breathes slowly. She stops fidgeting. She straightens her back and relaxes her shoulders and lifts her chin.

The young man keeps his poise. His broad shoulders are square and his back is straight and his face is strong. He folds his hands in front of him quietly.

On cue they turn slowly to face one another.

“Do you, Draco Malfoy accept this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold, for richer, for poorer, for sickness and in health, for better and for worse, as long as you both shall live?”

The young man smiles with his mouth but not with his eyes. He nods.

“I do.”

“And do you, Astoria Greengrass, take this man to be your husband. To have and to hold, for richer, for poorer, for sickness and in health, for better and for worse, as long as you both shall live?”

The girl smiles a closed-lip smile. She bites her tongue and nods.

“I do.”

A groomsman hands the priest the rings. They are matching: a silver band with green and white stones.  The young man takes one delicately and slides it on to the girl’s finger.

“Through this ring I accept you as my wife, now and for all time.”

The girl takes one, fingers shaking, and fumbles it on to the young man’s finger.

“Through this ring I accept you as my husband, now and for all time.”

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Slowly the young man turns to face the girl and lowers his face to hers. Their lips meet briefly. He takes her arm and they walk down the aisle.

Underneath the girl’s sore feet the grass is cold and wet. Above her the sky is grey and dark. Behind her the guests are crying and cheering and staring and glaring.  In front of her the manor looms large and empty. Beside her, her husband is quiet and cold


	4. Moonlit Shadows

The moon is round and white in the sky and there is no movement aside from the slight breeze, causing the tall trees to swain the dark. Like the night, the manor is empty and quiet.

The clicking of the girl’s heels against the wood floor reverberates through the tall walls as she runs to catch up with her husband. The lamps in the hall are unlit. There is no light except that which comes through the window and the furniture looms large and unfamiliar in the glow of the moon.

He leads her up a large staircase and down a long hallway.  His pace is fast and she can’t keep up. After a couple of minutes she runs after him, holding the long skirt of her wedding dress out of the way of her feet. She catches up with him, closing the gap, and then stops. But after a while the gap grows and they are apart again.

The girl looks around her. On the walls are elaborate paintings and tapestries. In the daylight they would show elegant figures and beautiful beasts, but the darkness distorts the pictures, and they are all reduced to shadows in the night.

Suddenly the young man comes to a stop. The girl isn’t paying attention and she so almost bumps into him. She trips and then blushes, letting the hem of her wedding dress fall on to the floor. In front of them stands a tall mahogany door. The man turns his head slightly. He speaks to the girl over his shoulder.

“My room. Our room.”

The girl swallows. The young man wraps his slender fingers around the ornate handles. He pushes the heavy doors and they swing slowly apart.


End file.
